To Have and To Hold
by bluepianos
Summary: It's pointless to say so now but she says it out loud anyway. "Yes." Yes, she'll marry him. She'll marry him in a heartbeat, if she could. …If he were still here. But he's not. In fact, he's gone, and he's never coming back. Broken-Spitfire ficlet, courtesy of Tumblr's devilish works and the cursed h-i-a-t-u-s.


**Words**: 1,362  
**Disclaimer**: NO. NO NO NO. I HATE THIS SHOW.  
**Notes**: It was a lovely Friday evening when all of a sudden, Tumblr exploded with unnecessary broken-Spitfire feelings! _Blue_ accidentally added an extra ingredient into the compartment - feels with a dash of emotional music. Thus, this ficlet was born! *cheesy introduction song*

Ahhhhh, kill me, this is actually slightly sad and I cried a little. "A little" meaning _Niagra Falls_ "a little."

**To Have and To Hold**

The first thing she did was clean out their closet. She'd assumed that it'd be the safest thing to peruse instead of, say, his desk or their bed, the kitchen or the shelf on which stood the plasma-screen TV. It was more likely that the closet _didn't_ hold prized possessions or anything he had considered valuable. She didn't want to come across anything he had held close to his heart just yet. Not yet.

Artemis quickly threw all of their undergarments and socks onto the bed, cleaning out the entire expanse of the top drawer in a matter of minutes. She tried not to think about the red socks he had once haphazardly thrown in the washing machine, permanently staining an entire collection of whites a faint pink. They'd laughed so hard about their new, rosy clothes - of course, _after_ she had thrown every last inch of pink cloth into his face when she'd opened the washing machine and had been greeted by an overwhelming view of _pink_. She chucked the red socks behind her and took a deep breath. They were just socks.

The next few shelves consisted of dress shirts, normal t-shirts, blouses and other upper-body articles of clothing. She flung those behind her shoulder and tossed them onto the bed as well. She encountered suddenly the green sweater she had bought him for Christmas once and she graced her fingers over the knitted neckline. She suddenly felt a chill run up her spine, sending shivers through the knotty nerves on her neck. Goosebumps rose along her arms and she bit her lip. Gulping, Artemis plucked the sweater out of the drawer and slipped it on, forbidding herself to relish that everlasting scent of pinewood and light cologne. Despite her resolve, her heart betrayed her by fluttering ever so slightly, lifting up and down perhaps an inch before settling again in her chest, the _thump-thump, thump-thump_ bringing her away from the haze that was Wally West.

Opening the bottom drawers of the closet, she reached the jeans and pants section of the closet. She pulled each pair of pants out one at a time and laid them out on the remaining space on the bed, clenching and unclenching her fists on the denim and cotton here and there. On the second to last stack of pants in the drawer, her hand brushed over a small, solid object under a pair of Wally's cargo pants. How had she not noticed it there before? Frowning, Artemis removed the cargo pants from their position and tossed them onto the bed. She used her hand to locate the object, fingers fishing through the rest of the clothing when suddenly her hands met velvet. Artemis blanched, her frown sinking deeper into her brow. Neither she nor Wally owned any pants made of velvet.

With shaky hands and staggered breathing, Artemis picked up a small black velvet box that had been hidden towards the back of the drawer.

He did not.

_Why_ did he?

Her heart found its way leaving her ribcage again, rising to her throat 'til she felt dizzy and found it hard, really hard, to breathe.

"Oh, Wally," she whispered, running a hand through her tangled, blonde hair. Her locks had seen better days and were currently reminiscent of Artemis's current state: emotional, distressed, and just so _tired_.

Tears pricked her eyes as she slowly, perhaps a little fearfully, opened the little black box. Inside lay a golden ring; small, simple. Perfect. On it sat the most extravagant diamond stone she'd ever laid eyes on, crystal clear, sharp and glinting in the low light of the bedroom. It took her breath away.

He really did it, the bastard.

Slipped carefully in between the slits on the edge of the box were the corners of a folded sticky note. Artemis frowned, momentarily forgetting the ring. Prying the note out of its hold, Artemis sat cross-legged on the floor against the foot of the bed. She set the black box down next to her and unfolded the note.

_for my steely-eyed, unbearable harpy. you weren't supposed to find this but you aren't a world-class detective-slash-superheroine for no reason, right? I meant to pop the question all romantic, I promise. but you know I was never great at any of that. so… I guess, now that you know, what do you say?_

_marry me?_

It was pointless, but Artemis whispered it anyway as her heart clenched tightly and refused to unclench.

"Yes."

Yes, she'll marry him. Or, yes, she _would have_ married him. She would have married him in an instant, still would today if –

– if he were around.

Sobs started to wrack Artemis's shoulders. No more holding back, none of that now. She dropped the note next to the little black velvet box, diamond ring glinting tauntingly in all its gracious glory. She was afraid of staining the ink, afraid of crumpling the note in all her frustration.

"Yes, Wally, yes. Yes, yes, yes," she whispered fiercely. Much as she did seven years ago when the Cave had been infiltrated by Red Tornado's siblings, Artemis curled into herself, but this time, she cried too. And the tears streamed down her cheeks faster than she expected, almost as fast as he was. And they felt so hot, so unforgiving, so regretful.

He was gone.

And she hadn't had the chance to tell him that, yes, you idiot, yes, you monster, of course I'll marry you. She hadn't had the chance to watch those emerald eyes glint with relieved joy (because he would have been so relieved that she hadn't rejected him, even when he knew that she loved him, even when he knew just how much she loved him with all her being, all her heart). She hadn't had the chance to let him sweep her off her feet in that way he loved, the way he knew made her feel weightless. She hadn't had the chance to laugh at him as he whooped loudly – _joyful, joyful_ – letting all the world and all of their neighbors know that he held in his arms _the_ girl, that one girl, and that she was about to become his girl _forever_. And she hadn't had the chance to kiss him when he would've set her back down on her feet, both of them a little teary-eyed because _this pure bliss_ was what they've been looking for. What they deserved.

Maybe if she hadn't left so soon. Maybe if she'd been selfish and told Nightwing that she wouldn't take the job. Maybe if she'd played it safe.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. But maybe wasn't good enough.

And now, maybe would never be good enough.

Artemis cried for an hour, perhaps more. She didn't know, didn't care. The clothes lay waiting patiently on the bed. They still smelled fresh and a little like lavender from when they were last washed. Did Wally wash them? Had he used the flowery detergent she loved or the cheaper one he always insisted on buying? She didn't know but God, did she want to.

Nelson slipped into the room at some point between the time it took for Artemis to finish crying and start pulling herself together. He crawled into her lap, whining and licking at her tears. She tried to smile at him but could only hold him tight, hands splayed across his warm fur – almost as warm as Wally's bare skin (skin she remembered so well, too well). Almost.

"He's really gone, Nelson," she whispered. Nelson whined and dejectedly lay his head on her lap. Artemis blinked the last of her tears and turned back to the ring and the note.

_marry me?_

Yes. Of course.

_If you were here. _

It wouldn't be like the first time when they simultaneously came together in a clap of impulsive, passionate thunder. It wouldn't be like New Years Eve, seven years ago when everything fell into place and all was well. They'd saved the world once and they had done it again. But they couldn't save Wally. And now he was gone.

He was really gone.

* * *

There was all this stuff going on about Artemis being the one who died and a few of us on Tumblr realized that there's a chance Grandon will turn all of this around _just to hurt us_ and kill off Wally instead. OK I REALLY JUST CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE.

I had a happier marriage-fic going on in my Pages docs but this one just came sputtering out when I should have been doing Spanish. Wake me up when September ends. Like, really, please do.


End file.
